


tangled up repeatedly

by freezerjerky



Series: still you come around with scissors to cut me down [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Asexual Character, Asexual Newton Geiszler, BDSM, Blindfolds, Dom/sub, Fluff, Ice, Light BDSM, M/M, Marriage, Mild Sexual Content, Sensory Deprivation, Shibari, Spanking, THE ULTIMATE KINK, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 12:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: “Hermann, you’ve been at work all day, then working on this damn exam for the past two hours and I-”“You are being absolutely bratty, ” Hermann states and doesn’t that just thrill Newt to the bone. Did Hermann know he was waiting for that precise word to slip out of his mouth?“What of it?”“You have two options, you can sit here and sulk until I’m done writing this exam or…”“Or what?”“You can go to our bedroom, strip down to your boxers and kneel while you wait for me to finish. Your clothes are to go in the hamper, understood?”





	tangled up repeatedly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeneathSilverStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneathSilverStars/gifts).



> the lovely [silver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneathSilverStars) requested a delicious silver of a BDSM fic
> 
> this fic does feature sex positive ace newt and a mostly non-sexual situation- but all of that should be pretty much covered by the tags
> 
> title is from "Everything You Say Sounds Like Gospel" by Matt Nathanson which is a big mood for this fic/my general vibe for writing these two

Newt’s petulant. Contrary. Whiny.  _ Bratty.  _ He does love that last word, the way it must feel in Hermann’s mouth, his lower lip sticking out in firm annoyance. It does something to Newt, not the same thing it would do to a lot of other people, but something. And that something is very good.

The issue is that Newt’s always tangled up in his thoughts. It’s a traffic jam, they all want to go a mile a minute but when there’s too many thoughts on the proverbial highway, that’s not feasible. It’s either all clogged up or there’s a massive twelve car pile up that has everything backed up for twice as long. That’s a bad metaphor and Newt can’t really drive all that well, but it’s the only thing he can think of that’s comparable. 

The point is, he gets frustrated and then he acts out. Like any adult man who’s learned to become relatively well adjusted, he knows he can no longer throw himself on the floor and cry himself out with a tantrum like he did when he was five. He’s an esteemed professor with six PhDs, owns a condo, helped save the world, and happens to be married to one of the greatest minds in the known universe. (That’s a slightly biased opinion, but he’s sticking with it.) There’s no need for tantrums, and if his brain would cooperate, there would be no need for these damn traffic jams either.

But here he is, one week out from mid-terms and feeling like he’s stuck in rush hour traffic for the rest of eternity. He’s been consuming a diet that consists almost entirely of Monster energy drinks, coffee, and any easy combination of cheese and carbs. It's taken every ounce of self control not to break into Hermann's stash of "medical" marijuana for some relief, but he prefers to smoke with Hermann regardless. Hermann’s come home obnoxiously late and then shut himself up in the office to write an exam and this doesn’t sit well with Newt. Instead of asking for the attention he craves, he opens each cabinet in the kitchen and then slams it shut, searching for some great unknown in the confines of their limited storage.

“I’m trying to work, Newton, darling,” Hermann calls from the office. The use of both Newt’s name and a pet name tells him that Hermann is annoyed but trying not to be.

Newt doesn’t dignify this with an answer, but instead seeks out Hermann in the office. If he were in a better mood, he’d drape himself over Hermann, pepper him with soft kisses and ask if he’s eaten and if they can order a late night Chinese takeout if he hasn’t (or maybe if he has as well.) Instead, he practically throws himself on the futon they’ve set up in the corner of the office, huffing.

“I’ve asked you not to do that several times,” Hermann observes, though he doesn’t even glance over. “The material is not meant to sustain having weight dramatically thrown at it.”

“What if I’d thrown myself not dramatically?” Newt asks, challenging. 

Hermann shifts in his chair, leans to the side with an elbow propped on the back and levels a look at Newt over his glasses. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of doing anything without drama.”

“I did marry a drama queen, didn’t I?” Newt responds and his tone is probably a bit too harsh. 

“I wasn’t aware that you had two husbands.” Hermann turns back to his work, adjusts his glasses and stares back down at his computer. Newt hates how easily Hermann can concentrate on his work. Hell, he hates how easily anyone can concentrate, but right now Hermann’s focus on anything but him is particularly abhorrent.

“Oh, that’s a thought,” Newt muses. “Maybe find someone who works normal hours, and actually knows how to cook. I do miss eating real food sometimes.”

He might still for a moment, but Hermann remains impassive. Newt remains a bit of a jerk. After a few long minutes without any attention, Newt hefts a large sigh. He feels a bit like a lady in an old-time romance, flung over a chaise lounge and desperate for attention or love. Or maybe just being dramatic, he’s unsure, because he’s having a hard time untangling the thoughts in his head.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Hermann asks at length, in his obnoxiously neutral tone.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Wasn’t good though. We never have good food in this damn house, Herms.”

This is probably not a fair assessment, seeing as he’s the one who bought the groceries last time. It’s not entirely his fault he shoved all the fresh produce to the back of the fridge and forgot about it in favor of mac and cheese made with cheese flavor packets.

Hermann slips off his glasses, rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. Newt really wishes he was in the mood to go over there and kiss him, ask him if he wanted to cuddle until the thing that’s causing him stress went away. Except Newt is probably the thing causing him stress right now. Or one of them.

“Newton,” Hermann says, once he’s placed his glasses aside, “what is it you want?”

“Just a bit of your attention.” It’s another phrase that doesn’t come out the way he means it. Newt wishes he understood why he says half the things he says.

“I’m working, you can have my full attention when I’m finished working.”

“Hermann, you’ve been at work all day, then working on this damn exam for the past two hours and I-”

“You are being absolutely  _ bratty, _ ” Hermann states and doesn’t that just thrill Newt to the bone. Did Hermann know he was waiting for that precise word to slip out of his mouth?

“What of it?”

“You have two options, you can sit here and sulk until I’m done writing this exam or…”

“Or what?”

“You can go to our bedroom, strip down to your boxers and kneel while you wait for me to finish. Your clothes are to go in the hamper, understood?”

He’s scrambling to his feet within a moment. Oh, this is exactly what he needs tonight and of course Hermann knows this. Hermann’s probably known since he heard the first cabinet door slam. Newt’s halfway out the door when Hermann beckons him over, pulling him closer by the belt loops on his jeans when he’s close enough.

“First a proper kiss hello?” Hermann asks and it’s honestly sweeter than sugar, his tone drips like the most tantalizingly golden honey.

Newt takes Hermann’s face in his hands and kisses him, chasing the amber sweetness of his tone. He’s certain he can taste it on his tongue if he tries hard enough, and he’s always willing to try very hard.

“Hello,” Newt exhales when he pulls away. “I missed you today.”

“We had tea together this afternoon.” Hermann relinquishes his grip of Newt and pushes him gently away. “Do you remember the safe words?”

“Butterscotch for slow down, taffy for stop.”

“Good boy,” Hermann hums and turns back to his work. 

 

It’s been twenty minutes, which feels like an age. Newt’s made sure to put a pillow down to rest his knees on as he kneels, so the pain is not an issue. He just thinks he might go mad if he’s alone with his thoughts much longer and he can only grip onto his thighs with sweaty palms for so long. He’s debating calling out when he hears the familiar sound of Hermann’s stride, the gentle clack of his cane and his sure but gentle steps.

“You did not put all of your clothes in the hamper,” Hermann observes, moving past him into the room. He unbuttons his cardigan, shifting out of it before he disappears into the closet. It is true, Newt had left a sock hanging precariously over the edge, not a deliberate act of disobedience, but a little push. Maybe something to further a punishment.

“I- I did,” Newt answers.

“You know I dislike chaos in the bedroom.” Hermann emerges from the closet then. He’s toed off his shoes and is in the process of rolling up his sleeves, reviewing his sinewy forearms.

“I do, sir.” Newt nods, casting his gaze down. It’s true in all contexts, but in their regular domestic life, Hermann’s accepted it as a reality (he’s even said once he finds it charming.) In this role, Hermann demands order.

Hermann steps forward, gripping Newt by the chin, tilting his head to both sides as if to inspect him. His gaze is intense, dark under those wonderful lashes, but he can never seem to fully conceal the loving fondness. To this day Hermann doesn’t smile more often than he finds necessary, but his eyes tell a completely different story of happiness. Newt fidgets under the look, feels a bit like a specimen under glass, like his weaknesses are exposed. (That’s the point of this, he knows, he needs to let himself be exposed. He needs to be undone.) 

“Be still,” Hermann warns, patting his cheek before he pulls away.

“Or what?” Newt retorts, teasing, far too forward for the moment.

“I will make you.”

He wants to be made to do everything. He wants to stop having to make decisions, but he can’t exactly ask for that. Instead, he moves like he’s going to stand. It’s defiant, cheeky, not the way for Newt to ask for what he wants.

“Newton.” This warning has a bit more bite. “If you want to stand, you may but you will be punished for that.”

The word punished is like music to his ears and he scrambles to his feet, standing still once he’s standing properly. Hermann’s settled down on the edge of the bed and he pats his leg.

“On your front,” he instructs. “Ten hits for moving, another ten for disobeying me about the clothing. You will count for me, you don’t want me losing count.”

“Yes, sir.” Newt nods and climbs into his lap, mindful as always of Hermann’s bad leg. There’s something so shamefully delicious about being like this, perched over Hermann’s knee and almost completely bare while Hermann’s still dressed.

“Ready, pet?” It’s not a typical term of endearment, one that only comes out in scenes and the rarity of it makes it all the more appealing. Hermann pulls down his briefs and runs a hand along the soft skin of his ass.

He nods again and then gasps when Hermann delivers the first blow. Collecting himself, he begins the count. The pain is grounding, sends him to his center. Hermann’s an expert at this, how to make something hurt just enough without ever sending it too far. He’ll relish in the feeling of hot skin for the rest of the evening, maybe the tenderness of ensuing bruises, but the sensation always leaves him feeling the same afterwards. Loved. Well cared for.

At the sixth blow, he gasps a bit too loudly, forgets to count. His brain stutters for a moment and he cannot recover. Hermann tsks and grabs his ass.

“We’re going to start again, darling. Remember that you have to count correctly for me.”

Honestly, it should be no surprise to him that Hermann’s so strict about math of all things. He spanks him again and he begins to count, more determined this time.

After the tenth blow, Newt can feel Hermann’s erection under his body. He doesn’t mind that Hermann often finds their scenes arousing and Hermann’s always understood that there was nothing inherently sexual in these scenes for Newt. Often, Newt will help Hermann get off through the course of the evening and even orgasm himself and Hermann never does anything to make the scene’s focus his sexual pleasure. It’s a perfect balance and a good way for Newt to gauge if the scene is working for his husband as well. Newt’s half hard himself from the experience but it’s a physiological reaction that will fade before long.

At twenty, there’s tears in his eyes and the pain is so wonderfully tender. Hermann runs a soothing hand down his back, down the hot skin on his ass. Newt knows he’s checking to make sure he hasn’t hit too hard, that he’s not too tender. Despite the tears, Newt is confident he could go for some time longer. Still, he’s excited for whatever else Hermann has in store for him this evening.

“Go lay down on the bed and stay perfectly still, I’ll be right back,” Hermann instructs, nudging Newt gently.

Newt awkwardly shifts off of him, moving onto the bed proper. He lays in the middle of it, only after he’s slipped out of his boxers and tossed them in the direction of the hamper. Thankfully, they land in the hamper.

Content that he’s settled, Hermann disappears into the closet again, closing the door behind him. Eager after Hermann’s not come back almost immediately, Newt sits up on his elbows. When he re-emerges he’s changed into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. He’s holding a long length of robe and he looks adorably flustered, likely because he was digging around in the closet for something hidden or because he attempted to change into comfortable clothes rather quickly. There’s a cowlick sticking up in his bangs and Newt smiles.

“I said lay still,” Hermann states then, attempting a cool demeanor. “You’re being particularly bratty today and I expect better from my sub, do you understand?”

“Sorry, sir.” Newt drops back down onto the mattress.

“You’re having a very rough time of this today, darling,” Hermann continues, “so I’m going to give you some assistance in giving over control.” Hermann’s been doing this with Newt for close to half a decade and he still cannot help but let his concern break through, the very real need Hermann has expressed to care for Newt in all contexts. (Likely brought on by Newt’s disregard for caring for himself in the past.)

“Please.” He wants this choice to be taken from him, he wants to be in the only set of hands he can rely on to make the clutter in his mind stop.

“Sit up.”

That order he can obey easily and he does, pleased when Hermann joins him on the bed, along with the rope. The first thing Hermann does is kiss him, resting his hands on Newt’s shoulders as he does. He wants Hermann to kiss him forever, until all the traffic lights in his brain flicker off and there’s nothing but the blissful silence of a world without distraction, without obligation. Hermann pulls away, though, and lifts the rope. Kissing is not going to be the solution tonight, but Newt’s sure if he asks it can be the solution some other night very soon.

“Because you’re being mouthy today, I’m going to ask you to be silent, or I will stop,” Hermann instructs. “You may use your safe words and nothing else, understood?”

He nods his answer, little over eager bobs of his head as he assents. This is one of his favorite things, the feeling of being restrained, helpless and yet so profoundly helped. Ideally, this is best done while standing, but Newt knows that Hermann’s leg is best served with a sitting position and there’s an intimacy about doing it in the bed that really doesn’t compare to anything else. The luxury of a king sized bed, the shared sleepy mornings and late nights of a marital bed, these all make Newt feel something warm and pleasant.

Hermann’s hands are adept at this, tying the knots just so- making sure Newt feels each rope tightening around his skin, interspersing the sensation with the delicate press of fingertips to skin. (Even better, the sensation of lips on skin. Newt does not always understand the sexual pleasure of these acts, but he profoundly understands the sensual powers of being touched by such a beautiful and caring man.) Newt can feel himself sinking further into something close to contentment, but there’s still the edge, the desire to shift away. He flinches once and Hermann grabs his hip hard, pointedly looking Newt in the eyes.

“I’m going to take your glasses off and blindfold you. Please use your safe word if you do not want me to do this.”

When he gives no answer, Hermann delicately lifts the glasses from his face, lifting them and placing them on the nightstand. He retrieves a blindfold from the drawer, a silky piece of fabric and ties it tightly (but not too tightly, oh, never too tightly) around Newt’s face and ascertains that he cannot see anything. Hermann kisses him again, biting his lip when he does, tugging on it. Once, Hermann had bit hard enough to draw blood and Newt had relished in the memory for days. Generally, he doesn’t have the taste for that sort of thing.

The kiss is relatively short lived and Hermann resumes his work with the rope, his movements almost alarmingly calculating and precise. Without the distraction of sight, Newt can concentrate on the movements and precise measurements that Hermann is using as he creates his masterpiece. With each tightening of the rope, he also loses a bit of control, the ability to move his arms, the ability to want to do anything he’s not commanded to do. He’s completely at Hermann’s disposal, pliant and contained.

Newt cannot see the work, but he knows Hermann’s done approximately this before, a series of criss crossing knots across his chest, ornamental but not exaggerated, his arms tied more or less to his sides to keep them still. When Hermann’s completed his work he lets out a little satisfied “hmpf” and pushes Newt gently back so he’s laying down in the bed. There’s the thrill of wondering what will happen next, the excitement of the mattress shifting, signalling that Hermann has left the bed.

Instead of the previous panic he felt upon Hermann leaving for a few moments, he can concentrate on his breathing, on shifting lower into subspace. When the bed does dip again, something cold’s placed on his chest and he yelps at the suddenness of it. Ice cubes, he realizes dimly. Hermann doesn’t use it to tease, no, he lets the damn thing melt down, lets Newt feel the drips of water slip down his chest. When some of the water pools against the rope, just against Newt’s nipple, Hermann reaches out two fingers, rubs the water against the nub and then pinches it for good measure. Newt moans at the sensation.

There’s another placed on his stomach, and he focuses, trying to feel each individual molecule, each pinprick of a sensation. When this is mostly melted, there’s something wholly new, the press of a tongue against his skin, licking softly. A new sensation to process, better than the one before it. He gasps and he feels Hermann’s expression shift to a grin against his skin. Normally he’d begrudge his state for denying him the pleasure of potentially seeing this, but right now feeling is enough. Feeling is all he has, all he needs.

Hermann pulls away and he’s deprived. He whimpers for a moment and then there’s a soothing hand on his thigh and a soft kiss on his lips. Hermann’s fingers trail to his inner thigh, teasing the delicate skin there. He’s let Hermann know every secret about his body that he’s willing to share, every soft and tender spot and Hermann knows how to touch him in ways that mean the exact things he wants them to mean. That is to say, Hermann’s hands don’t venture any further and Newt feels at peace.

The hand stills, gripping his leg as Hermann’s mouth moves along his jaw, down Newt’s neck. He latches onto the skin there, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Newt wears these bruises like a badge of honor, juvenile as it may seem. He’s got the ring, he’s got the home, he’s got everything to prove who he belongs to, but there’s nothing quite like a mark on his skin and everything that’s easy to see that Hermann would approve of is already covered by tattoos. So he’ll take these bruises and gladly. Outside of this part of their relationship Hermann would laugh at him, give him a judgemental look over his glasses that looks far too put on and Newt loves that side of Hermann just as much as the part that possessively marks him.

The pain is a beautiful anchor, tethering him to his body, to where he is. He can feel himself slipping further into the subspace, further into that place where he can be quiet, where the traffic stops completely. 

“My darling,” Hermann mutters against his neck. Under ordinary circumstances, Newt would tease Hermann relentlessly for being a hopeless romantic (and he is- flowers for every anniversary, letters left to him for no good reason, once a beautiful poem) but instead he smiles under the endearment. He wants to be good to earn this praise.

Hermann moves a hand to Newt’s chest, laying it over his heart. Newt wonders if Hermann is going to do something more, if he’s got some wax or a paddle waiting for him, but he realizes what Hermann’s brought him is silence. There is no sound in the room but their breathing. Newt is not to speak, Hermann is not speaking. If he was left alone like this, Newt would panic, unprotected, without a safety net. But he’s safe here, his Hermann is pressed against him. He can feel the ropes stretch against his skin with each breath, or the sensation of Hermann gripping his leg, or the odd sensation of water and saliva on his stomach but the command comes unbidden. None of those are the things to focus on, he needs to think only of the pinprick of being alive, the sensation of breathing. He focuses on breathing, existing and all the sounds come to a stop.

He’s only dimly aware of Hermann slipping off the bed and he’s not sure how much time passes before that occurs. Hermann’s back in a moment, slipping off the blindfold as he kisses along every inch of Newt’s face he can; the tip of his nose, his eyelids, his cheeks, his chin, the list goes on forever.

“Please speak now,” Hermann says in his softest tone. “My world is very empty without you chattering away.”

Newt’s not quite in the headspace to laugh yet, but he does give him a dreamy smile and lets Hermann shift him up to untie the ropes. It won’t be much longer, he suspects, until they become profoundly uncomfortable and there’s no more pleasure to be had from them. Hermann’s hands are no less agile, but he moves quicker in the undoing, rubbing his hands over the indents left on Newt’s skin, placing kisses to places that he suspects there’s chafing. (Hermann’s told Newt all this, the things that worry him, the things he loves. After three years of marriage and two more years of this relationship, there’s very little room for secrets.) As soon as Newt’s arms are free, he takes the liberty to cup Hermann’s cheek and offer his thanks in a kiss, he doesn’t even care that the bonds are not fully undone. 

“Newton, let me finish,” Hermann states, his fingers making quick work of the last of the ropes. He doesn’t move so quickly that he doesn’t stop to check that he’s not hurt anywhere. “Now you may do as you wish.”

“I’m content to lie here.”

Hermann shakes his head and nudges for him to move over. “Let me look at your backside first.”

Newt obeys, glad for the ability to move regardless and lets Hermann inspect his ass, checking for bruising or any abnormal soreness.

“I’m fine,” Newt mumbles against the pillow. “I want you to take care of yourself.”

He can’t see it, but he knows Hermann’s blushing at that. Of course Newt’s aware that he’s been aroused through much of the encounter and if he’d minded, he would have used the safe word ages ago. He very rarely minds.

“Are you certain?”

“I’m not satisfied until you’re satisfied.” Newt flips himself back over, feeling pleasantly boneless, and he grins.

Despite his hesitance, Hermann wastes little time in pulling down his pajama bottoms and taking himself in hand, stroking hard and fast. Newt runs a hand down his chest, idly teasing a nipple, he knows Hermann likes this. He likes it even more when Newt licks him there, sucks his nipple into his mouth. He doesn’t crave sex, but he does crave making Hermann happy, the same way Hermann always makes room for his happiness.

Even if he was more interested in taking an active role tonight (he’s not) he doesn’t think he possibly would have the energy. It doesn’t matter much as it only takes Hermann about a dozen strokes until he comes with an undignified grunt. Hermann plucks a tissue from the nightstand, wipes himself off, and discards it rather carelessly. 

“Do you want-” he begins, but Newt cuts him off with a kiss to the chin.

“No, I’m good, I think it would sort of ruin the feeling I’ve got going on right now.”

“If you change your mind, you just have to ask.” Hermann presses a kiss to his forehead.

It’s sweet that Hermann asks, that it’s always treated as a question, never an assumption either way. 

“If you could just keep like...kissing me all night long, that would be great.”

Hermann grins and kisses the top of his head. He wraps his arms around Newt and holds him close to his body.

“Of course, but why don’t we talk about what had you in such a mood today first?” Hermann suggests, squeezing his shoulder.

“Work. Life. Before when we were busy it was always...the world was going to end if we didn’t do the shit we were doing,” Newt begins. “Now everything is so...not meaningless, but it means different things, you know? If I don’t grade my papers on time that sucks and I could get in trouble, but no one’s going to die. So why do I have to do all these things?” He sniffles. “Am I still doing enough? I mean, there’s twenty thousand things I need to be doing or I can be doing and none of them seem like enough.”

“Newton,” Hermann says against his hair. “You are fantastically enough. You don’t have to keep proving yourself. You were so busy for so long, it’s naturally to have a hard time adjusting to suddenly not being overwhelmed always, but the way to cope with that is to not get yourself overwhelmed over nothing.”

Newt shifts, looks up at Hermann. He doesn’t care if there’s tears in his eyes, he cries all the time anyway and there’s one person he can always be his most vulnerable with. The biggest blessing of all is that Hermann feels the same way about him.

“Do you get overwhelmed? You’re always so calm and collected these days. I kinda miss when you used to shout all the time, honestly,” Newt says, half in jest.

Hermann huffs out a laugh and wipes a tear that’s trailed along Newt’s face. “All the time, darling. But then I remember that I’ve got you and that being with you isn’t a reward for all my hard work that I have to keep earning, I’m just that lucky.”

“You are a gigantic romantic sap, Hermann.”

“But you adore it. You’d have me no other way.”

Rather than answer in words, Newt kisses him in agreement. Hermann does make good on his word and kisses him until they both fall asleep tangled in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ pendragoff and on twitter @ newtguzzler (or nutguzzIer for some lewd content.)


End file.
